


A mistake too great to hide

by softgrungeprophet



Series: post-Space Knight AU [1]
Category: Venom (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anger, Apologies, Canon Divergence - Venom: Space Knight, Emotional Baggage, Flash is using prosthetic legs, Gen, Hugs, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Introspection, Mental Link, Other, POV Venom Symbiote (Marvel), Past Corruption, Purified Venom Symbiote, Regret, Self-Destruction, Sharing a Body, Tears, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, brief mention of the symbiote equivalent of a miscarriage also, memory sharing, past illness, possible emotional manipulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 19:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17269973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softgrungeprophet/pseuds/softgrungeprophet
Summary: It remembered the early days, of admittedly unhealthy shared anger, but also of their discovery, together, of what it meant to be happy.What had gotten into its head to twist that up into such an awful thing?(Set sometime after the events of Carnage (2016) and Venom: Space Knight, after a brief return to space after they reunited with Andi, and now returning to Earth again--possibly around the time Venom (2016) may have started.References events from Spectacular Spider-Man: The Hunger.





	A mistake too great to hide

**Author's Note:**

> [In every loss in every lie](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ysSxxIqKNN0)  
> [In every truth that you deny](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ysSxxIqKNN0)  
> [And each regret and each goodbye](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ysSxxIqKNN0)  
> [Was a mistake too great to hide](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ysSxxIqKNN0)  
> [And your voice was all I heard](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ysSxxIqKNN0)  
> [That I get what I deserve](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ysSxxIqKNN0)  
> (Linkin Park - "New Divide") 
> 
> Here's to new beginnings, huh?  
> (I'll write something that's not fucking depressing soon, i swear)

At some point, Earth had become truly home to the symbiote. Arguably, should home not have been Klyntar? The Hivemind? But it had spent—well, in the grand scheme of things it had actually spent very little time on Earth. But its human hosts had rubbed off on it. Particularly Flash Thompson, who felt such strong urges to protect the small, who became so achingly homesick despite the millions upon millions of multicolored stars surrounding them. Or maybe because of them.

He wasn't the only one who'd imbued his love of his home planet into the symbiote's subconscious, however.

Eddie Brock...

A man with so much to prove, so desperate for connection and meaning. He pushed people away, he pushed his problems away, he ran away from the difficult things life had to offer while throwing himself into bodily danger on a regular basis. No care for himself, and supposedly no care for others. But, deep down, the symbiote had felt his care, and knew it with the same familiarity by which it knew his body. They shared their soft spot for children, their desire for recognition. Eddie Brock liked holding books and leafing through their pages and running his hands over their embossed titles. He liked the library, and he liked the challenge of physical exertion, and he liked to go on long walks, and he liked when they swung through the air, joined at every molecular level—

And the symbiote had ruined that, hadn't it?

It remembered the early days, of admittedly unhealthy shared anger, but also of their discovery, together, of what it meant to be happy. Truly, genuinely happy. Chocolate and warm beach sand and the ocean breeze and the knowledge that they could be heroes if they so desired.

What had happened?

How had things ended up so bad?

What had gotten into its head to twist that up into such an awful thing? A completely different person, dripping cruel manipulations and disparagements and  humiliations into his brain, insidiously devaluing him, filling him with doubts and prying what little self-worth he still held onto from his cancer-weakened hands. Metaphorically speaking.

Fear? The child? And what good had that done? Spider-Man had latched the symbiote and its incubating spawn back onto Eddie's corpse and in the efforts to repair all the damage of his illness-riddled cells, the child had been lost. Absorbed for sustenance.

And the symbiote had not treated him any better afterward.

Perhaps it was for the best that Eddie had auctioned it off and donated the money to charity.

Or so it assumed, based on his intentions before one became two.

Before it made yet another series of mistakes.

" **Flash.** "

Eugene "Flash" Thompson—hair short for the convenience of space travel, silvery eyes catching the light of the lamp clamped to his workstation—looked up. He tilted his head, and didn't need to say anything. The symbiote knew every nuance of his body language.

" **We are nearly home.** " The symbiote found itself pausing as if in thought, but really it was something more akin to fear, or nerves. " **What will we do first?** "

Flash made a face, thoughtful, yet half-smiling, and slightly pouty. A very human display. "I dunno. I was thinking maybe we could stop by to see Andi. We missed her birthday." He pushed his log-journal back, turning in his seat to more fully face the symbiote's separated form. "Why?"

What to say—no, it knew what to say, but it didn't know how Flash might react, despite understanding him so deeply.

Or maybe because it understood him so deeply.

Him and his self-worth, balanced on being useful, productive, a hero.

It didn't want him to think it no longer needed him. (Not like it had done to Eddie) Because it did need him, undeniably so. It loved him, almost as much as it had been in love with Eddie Brock and more than it had ever been infatuated with the ideal of Peter Parker or Spider-Man.

(Though Flash's own feelings for Spider-Man had amplified that small yearning, of late.)

(Oh, human emotions... how complicated they became, so quickly.)

" **You are everything to me, Eugene Thompson.** "

Flash's eyebrows raised, at that. For a second, his expression was pained, but he pushed it down as he blushed. A small rise of blood to the surface, raising his body temperature around his head, neck, shoulders, underarms, chest.

Flash smiled, finally, and his voice was soft when he muttered, "Geez, you really know how to flatter a guy.'"

" **But...** "

Flash's pulse kicked up, quickened with the smell of anxiety as his smile fell.

The symbiote reached out to him, and threaded its way along his skin, putting out nanoscopic filaments of itself into each cellular core. It sank into his body and felt him relax almost immediately as it took its place in between the atoms of his being. Settled around his heart, in his lungs, along the lining of his intestines, within the spaces of his larynx and the porosity of his bones.

And then it pushed all of its regrets into Flash's brain. Not all at once, but close to it.

And it pushed its desire to make things right, too, at the very end.

The way he breathed out, as he finished processing everything, felt like a deflation.

"Oh."

He rubbed his hands along his face.

The symbiote had worked so hard to keep its memories of Eddie separate from its interactions with Flash, to prevent its past from coloring its current. To keep him from ever knowing the kind of person it had been, in those final days with its dying host.

Maybe that had been selfish.

It could not and would not blame Flash if he now hated it.

But he showed no hate. Some sadness, yes. Concern. Echoed regret in turn. Uncertainty. Bitter memories of Flash's own, of his years as a bully. Of his violent outbursts, in his youth. Of his mother's perhaps well-intentioned or self-protective but ultimately damaging words to a young man who only wanted someone to tell him it wasn't his fault, that he had never deserved to be treated this way—

"I'm not sure what to say."

The symbiote hummed, deep in his bones, sending its vibrations through the junctures and apophyses of his skeleton.

"Everyone makes mistakes?"

A rote line he had repeated over and over until it became instinct.

 **I am no better than either of your fathers**.

"Hey, now..." Flash raised his hands, as if he were speaking to a physical body, though really he addressed himself—or would have seemed to, to an outsider. "My father beat me. Did you beat Eddie?" The symbiote could tell he knew the answer already, but felt a brief kick of nervousness in his gut as he asked his semi-rhetorical question.

He feared the answer would be "yes," and that filled the symbiote with remorse.

**Never.**

A deflation, a sigh, guilty relief that he had doubted it.

 **But in some ways, I feel that what I did to him may have been worse**.

Flash leaned his elbows on the edge of his desk. "You think so?"

**I destroyed his self-worth and fed on his cancer.**

Flash rested his face in his hands and breathed out a quiet " _shit_."

 **All for my selfish fear**.

"You were sick."

**You genuinely think that makes what I did to him acceptable?**

"...No. No, I don't."

**Good.**

They sat together in silence, steeping in their hectic, complex flood of thoughts and emotions.

After five long minutes, simply going through the processes of the human body, compensating for the low gravity of the ship, oxygenating the blood and tending to the nerve endings...

**I am sorry.**

Flash reached for his prostheses, so he could stand. The symbiote could have simply provided him with any limb he so desired, but he liked being self-sufficient. So he put on his prosthetic legs and rolled his shoulders, and found his balance, and walked over to the enforced quartz glass of the window, and looked out into the solar system as they drifted closer to home, and he said, "I'm not the one you should be apologizing to."

This was true.

And the symbiote had already impressed upon him its desire to make right with Eddie.

But it couldn't hurt to reiterate that fact.

 **I would like to see him again**.

*******************************

They watched Eddie, for a while. He had been very easy to find, despite the symbiote's own presence having long been recycled and broken down from his bloodstream and cells, as his body replaced itself in that endless human cycle of growth and rebirth. A wonder, really, that earth creatures could do that all on their own, without a hive connection, without help. Always capable of complete change, while still remaining the same being, intrinsically.

But a tiny bit of symbiotic material always clung to the brainstem, inescapable.

Eddie Brock lived in a chipped brick building, several floors up, in a very small apartment. They could see nearly the entire room just through his one window.

He looked... not happy, but what Flash might call "okay."

Alone.

 **If I speak to him, I fear I may ruin his life**.

Flash snorted, and responded with, " ** _Don't think so highly of yourself,_** " his voice colored and deepened by their joined form, stratified and slightly metallic.

Still, the symbiote rippled with anxiety—yet another oh-so-human emotion imbued into its psyche long ago—as they perched on the edge of their chosen roof. Watching. Waiting. The slightly yellow light from Eddie's apartment spilled out onto the fire escape, in the night. He moved around with seeming agitation, the longer they watched him. Kept getting up from his bed to turn the TV on, turn the TV back off, make himself a cup of tea, then a glass of ice water. Then to the bathroom, and then back out into the main space. He pressed his hands to the window, forming a small shadowed barrier around his eyes as he peered out into the night.

" ** _Venom... We gotta get this over with._** "

Flash was right.

Together, they dropped into cloaking and then dropped off the edge of the roof, falling to the street and absorbing the impact through the polymer of their shared flesh, re-establishing their shape as they rose to their full height. The symbiote receded, then, into Flash's body, leaving just enough exposed to form black jeans over his prosthetic legs—which he had opted to wear while inside of Venom, lately.

Flash sighed, but he walked up to the building, through the entrance, up the stairs—the symbiote manifesting a sleek black cane for him. 

Stopped outside of the door to Eddie Brock's apartment.

**I have changed my mind.**

_Nope._

Flash knocked on the door.

It opened almost immediately, as though Eddie had been standing, waiting, with his hand on the knob. He stood only an inch or two taller than Flash, even with the prostheses having affected Flash's height somewhat, but he loomed no less. Thunderous brow and dark storm-blue eyes, square jaw, clean-shaven, a new buzzcut, and tense shoulders.

"Flash Thompson."

Flash grinned, though it came out as more of a grimace, and the symbiote felt him begin to sweat.

"Eddie Brock! Mind if I come in?"

Eddie did not move.

"What are you doing here."

Barely even a question. More like an accusation.

Flash was nervous. The symbiote could feel it. Taste it. The acrid tang of adrenaline it had grown to loathe as much as it savored.

"Well, we just got back from _space_ , is the thing, and we were in the area, and we thought we'd drop by and say hi."

Eddie stared at him.

 "Space." He spoke flatly.

"Yep." Flash popped the P.

Eddie did not budge an inch but neither did Flash—Flash crossed his arms, and raised his chin, and held eye contact. Eddie broke it first, turning his head to the side with a sour expression, but stepping back and opening the door slightly wider.

Despite never having been, the place felt familiar to the symbiote. It held all those small touches Eddie had always brought to his various abodes and shelters. A small stack of brand new books sat on the square table between the door and the refrigerator, and the air smelled slightly stuffy and vaguely of Earl Grey. One notable absence: chocolate. Not a single trace, anywhere, as the symbiote filed away every detail. Not even flavored protein powder.

Eddie locked the door when he closed it. He moved into the tiny space that passed for a kitchen, muttering, "Take a seat," as he grabbed a box from the cupboard. "Tea?"

"Um... No." Flash sat at the square table, in the only chair in the entire tiny apartment, and began to take off his legs, symbiotic jeans reducing into shorts. "Thank you, though." It was a symbolic show of faux-vulnerability, a _trust-me_ kind of performative helplessness—as they all knew, of course, that if push came to shove, Flash Thompson had a symbiote, and Eddie Brock did not.

But also, a clear sense of physical relief crept up Flash's hips and spine as he made himself comfortable.

"Fine." Eddie pretended to be unfazed, unaffected, but the symbiote (and Flash, by extension) could sense his tension. The strain in his shoulders and neck, and the slightest smell of sweat. That last bit could have been Flash, too, but of course they both knew how his sweat smelled seeing as they both resided in his body, and this was a different scent.

 _Little weird, buddy_.

No one spoke while Eddie re-boiled his water.

 **Humans find _everything_ strange**.

The kettle began to whine and Eddie poured himself a cup and set the teabag in. Not until it had finished steeping and he tasted it to make sure it had sat long enough, until he had mixed a small amount of milk in to cool it, did he speak. Not until he finally turned to face them, less angry now and mostly just tired, with his cup in one hand and the other hand tucked around the side of his ribcage.

"Normally I'd have something snide to say but it's been a long week and I didn't really expect or want to cap it off with a visit from you two."

 **This was a mistake**.

 _It's fine_.

Flash gave Eddie a tight smile and said, "Great to see you too, pal."

 **He does not wish to see either of us and he has every right to tell us to leave**.

_And he hasn't. Yet._

"Give me one reason I shouldn't tell you to get the hell out of my apartment right now."

"Well." Flash leaned one elbow on the table, resting his cheek against his fist, and pressing calmness down onto the symbiote like a blanket. "...Well, shit." He opened his hand and pressed his face into his palms with a sigh.

Exasperated.

Pulling at the symbiote insistently. Expectantly.

It couldn't just pop out now, though. Not without putting off exactly the wrong impression—one of threat and potential danger.

Flash knew this, and raised his head to look at Eddie. "Your ex wants to talk to you."

With the rim of his cup just barely at his mouth, Eddie paused. Steam parted around his face as he watched Flash. Stared him down as if he might be able to see the symbiote inside. He took a sip, considered, and then tilted his head back to down all his possibly-scalding tea at once, only stopping to breathe once he had emptied his cup. He made a face, a grimace with his forehead creased and his nose wrinkled, eyes watering slightly as he set the cup in the sink. He breathed a little harshly, through his nose, as he settled his gaze on Flash once again.

"Here to tell me how much you don't need me?" His voice grated, burnt from the hot tea.

"Brock—" Flash began to speak but the symbiote pushed up through his skin and filled his throat and surrounded and tugged and realigned him inside of itself until their musculature synchronized and together they said his name. " ** _Eddie Brock._** "

Eddie's jaw had tensed, his teeth clenched, the muscles in his neck taut and shoulders stiff. Hands curled at his side, into fists.

" ** _Eddie..._** "

"Stop—" He had lowered his stare, as they stood. Looked down at the floor beneath their feet as they looked down at the top of his head. "Stop saying my name."

The symbiote took over their larynx and tongue and esophagus almost entirely, Flash sinking back as a passenger in their body. It did not move them closer. Only spoke, as quietly and calmly as it knew how—

" **I am sorry.** "

He closed his eyes—they could both just barely see the way his eyelashes caught the light from the stove hood. Could hear his heart hammering in his chest, and his breaths short, quick, and shallow.

" **I caused you great harm, and nothing I can do will ever be enough.** " It bowed their head. " **To say I am sorry is the least I can do. The bare minimum of decency.** "

He did not move, he did not shift. He held his breath, until he had to let it out and draw in a sharp, new one to refill his lungs. He unclenched his hands, then, spreading all his fingers out like the stretch of tendons might help him through his thoughts. Then he crossed his arms, almost hugging himself but a little more stubborn. Eyes open again, but head tucked down. He did not tremble.

Something needed to be said.

But what?

Human communication fell so short of everything it wanted to tell Eddie.

" **I thought that if I hurt you, it might be easier.** " It reached out, hesitantly—

"Don't—" Eddie jerked away, pressing his hip against the edge of the counter though he could move no further from Venom—Agent of the Cosmos—than the corner where the sink went up against the wall.

His voice was steady, but strained and slightly hoarse, and he finally looked up at them, glaring, pupils dilated and eyes glassy. "Don't touch me."

This had been a mistake, hadn't it.

" **You hate us.** "

Eddie shook his head, wordlessly.

" ** _No?_** "

Finally, a tear broke free, over his eyelid. He let it. Didn't reach up, or anything. Just took a deep, fortifying breath, licked his lips, and said, "I never missed anyone as much as I missed you and I can't stand it."

" **After all I did?** "

He laughed, bitter and sharp. "All you did made me _reliant_." He hardened his expression further. "All you did made me so—" He cut himself off, gritting his teeth. "I loved you so much and you made sure I knew I wasn't worth the dirt beneath my feet."

It had done so. This much was true.

Made sure he craved and needed its attention, simultaneously making sure he knew it did not need him nearly as much as he needed it. Made sure he knew he was just leftovers, wasting away in his own tears. Made him so he feared their shared bond as much as he desperately desired it.

" **I did.** "

"You made me feel worthless and I still love you so much, and it terrifies me."

The symbiote felt now just how strongly it had truly, immeasurably, fucked up.

"I tried so hard to hate you."

It could not touch him but it could not truly find the right words to say.

Eddie's eyes were red, his nose and his cheeks flushed, but the tears had stopped already, almost as soon as they began.

He had always cried a lot.

In his memories of his childhood, in the times of struggle they had shared, in the days where he was dying and couldn't do anything to stop it... And now, today, this night in his apartment with the refrigerator buzzing faintly and the burner on the stove clicking as it cooled.

And now... anger.

Venom simply stood still, as a glower overtook Eddie's tear-streaked face.

"Why did you _come_ here?"

They watched him together, wary but more for his own sake than either of theirs.

"To show off? To remind me how beneath you I am?? To make sure I don't _forget_?!" His voice rose slightly louder as he punctuated each question.

"As if I could ever forget."

"Do you even _know_ —" He caught himself with a soft breath. Spoke quietly, but still hard-edged and sharp. "I'm sure you're very happy with your all-American soldier boy, aren't you?"

" ** _Hey, screw you._** " Mostly Flash, there.

Eddie tilted his head, settling into that familiar smugness he used to protect himself. A smirk, a glint in his eyes. "What, you don't like that? You wanna do something about it?"

Venom shrank away, back into Flash, almost immediately, helping him back down into the one rickety chair as it disappeared.

"You're a coward!"

 **He's trying to goad us**.

"You can't even stand to look at me? Is that it?"

_Us?_

"He's broken just like me!"

 **You**.

Flash, for his part, kept his temper. Kept his voice level, quiet—"Hey, Brock. You mind chilling the fuck out?"

"Yeah, I do mind, _Flash_." Eddie came closer, then, away from the counter. He didn't touch Flash, but he did put one hand on the back of the chair and the other on the table, boxing him in. "You don't get to come here, to my apartment, with your apologies and your expectations." He leaned down low, so they could practically feel his breath on Flash's face, uneven and hot.

"You don't get to come here with my abusive ex-parasite and act surprised when I'm angry." He'd gotten very quiet, and calm. Externally so, at least. Internally, the symbiote could feel his heart beating fast. Could feel how his body temperature had spiked with his agitation.

Flash held eye contact. "I don't want to fight with you, Eddie."

"Yeah?" Eddie pulled back, and turned to the refrigerator, pulling the door open so the bottles of condiments inside clinked against each other. "Tell me something, Flash. Have you ever died?"

The symbiote felt Flash's confusion and surprise, a momentary skip as he processed Eddie's question.

"Wh—"

"I've died." Eddie straightened up with a small carton of leftovers. "I got brought back by our mutual... friend." He smiled to himself, eyes cold as he dumped the leftovers into a microwave-safe paper bowl. Wasteful. "Later, after I got rid of it..." He glanced at Flash, false smile dropped in an instant. "Well, I'll spare you the gory details. Let's just say I have a certain... _familiarity_ with the emergency room, and leave it at that."

He punched in the time on the microwave and let it go.

A heavy silence settled between them, only marred by the uncomfortable frequencies of the microwave whirring around and around.

Eddie was unhappy, clearly.

Flash was unhappy.

The symbiote itself, unhappy. With itself, mostly.

The microwave beeped after a full minute, and Eddie took out his food—pad Thai, clear by the slight bite of tamarind in its smell, and the orange color of the flat noodles.

The symbiote rose up Flash's esophagus to color his voice, that twinge of all-in-one, low-mid-high. " **Eddie** ," it said. " **Would you like us to leave**?"

He looked up at the ceiling, heavenward, as if praying to God for some kind of escape. Again, that half-formed, sour smile, tight-lipped and faded. Accompanied by a similarly incomplete, hollow laugh. He allowed himself this moment of bitter amusement, it seemed, and then became serious once more. He turned his gaze back to Flash, to the strands of black along his throat, of the symbiote seeping out from beneath his voice box.

Then he looked away. Down at his food, on the counter, barely touched. "I'm so tired."

They—Venom, only covering a part of Flash's face and one of his arms—hummed.

"I don’t want you to touch me." Eddie jabbed at his noodles. "But I _so_ badly want you to do it anyway." He shoved his bowl away. "Give me a reason to hate you again. Anything."

The symbiote only wrapped itself around Flash's arms, a comforting weight around his wrists working to bring his pulse down, and used his mouth to say, " **No, Eddie.** "

And then Flash himself said, "He's not going to hurt you anymore."

Eddie's expression wilted, softening at the edges despite the hard lines in his forehead and between his eyebrows. "That's funny." He leaned against the counter, arms tensing under his weight. "Considering the fact that you two are here in the first place."

Of course. Their presence alone hurt him.

His face contorted like he might cry again but all he did was whisper, "I miss you."

They became Venom again, stood again. But the old Agent Venom this time. Non-threatening, and more importantly, not that silhouette that Eddie knew so well, with the smooth muscles, so tall and wide. Just man-sized and armored. And they didn't touch him. Just stood within arm's reach, waiting, watching, tasting the air across their surface.

He turned to face them, slowly. First just his head, then his shoulders, then his whole body.

" **Do you love me, Eddie?** "

It felt a brief flicker of consternation and disapproval through Flash's thoughts.

Eddie nodded.

" **I love you, Eddie.** "

Another ripple.

_This is cruel._

Eddie reached out, and they took that as a sign of approval, and pulled him into their arms. Held him, ear-to-ear, cheek-to-cheek, chest-to-chest, with one hand on the back of his head and the other against his spine. His arms squeezed them tightly, as if they might disappear if he didn't hold on.

He didn't cry.

**Author's Note:**

> H....heeeeeeeeeey 😅
> 
> Ending this with:  
> Listen, if they're gonna give me this bullshit canon full of personality changes and retcons then BY GOD I will turn it into angst.  
> Like, if I have to accept this stuff as canon I'm gonna accept it on my own terms.  
> And those terms are a canon divergence wherein they actually fucking address it.
> 
>  
> 
> I tried to balance Eddie's emotional turbulence in a way that made sense--equal parts anger, betrayal, etc. I'm not sure how well I did... But I tried.  
> @Marvel hire me to write a post-Space Knight "What-If" about this AU. (jk jk but a person can dream... LOL)  
> Anyway it's probably pretty clear by now that my stance is pretty firmly "Eddie Brock is prone to tears" ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Which admittedly is mostly lifted from some of the worst comics but... like... shit dude, I'm a sucker for juxtaposition of characters and juxtaposition of the self. 
> 
> Speaking of which, yeah, I have established, in writing this, a new headcanon that Eddie likes to drink a London fog/Earl Grey latte sometimes.
> 
> Also Eddie shaved his head after Carnage (2016) in this, cause I said so and I think it would be... cute? I actually am having a really hard time picturing what it would look like but his crew-cut kinda...sucks...Like, what year is it, Eddie?? You're not Arnold Schwarzenegger.  
> Flash's hair is presumably pretty well grown out from _his own_ buzzcut by now. Or maybe like, how he looks in Stegman's art for Venom Inc., in which he was just... so cute...
> 
> ALSO  
> I've been working on a document exploring my ideas for symbiote biology, which I've been using as behind-the-scenes worldbuilding for a lot of my Venom fics, and it's just over 4000 words (~11-12 pages) (no, i'm not joking) and so I thought I'd share it: [LINK](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1e36rcuWz40jVOOCq9x_v51IL9W6rSOiS6ddYvNfS8DQ/edit?usp=sharing)
> 
>  
> 
> Anywho  
> Please let me know if I missed any tags, and I hope you liked it? I think? But maybe you didn't like it. That's fair too.  
> Self-harm tag is for when Eddie downs his like, 150+ degree tea and burns his throat.
> 
> OH also I posted on my writing blog about the use of color in Venom #9, so if you want to read that, it's here: [link](https://nadiarwendt.wordpress.com/2018/12/31/color-venom-9/)
> 
> UPDATE: I have read SPACE KNIGHT; It was very fucking good. Robbie Thompson coming in clutch as always. I probably would have approached this fic slightly differently had I read it beforehand but I do like this fic and how it turned out and stand by my opinion that there is some shit that needs to be addressed. IDK if Robbie would've done that but I'd like to think so, since he had that reconciliation with Flash's mom, and had Andi involved and brought up the hellmark and--man Andi really got shafted. There should be a solo Mania series.  
> Anyway.... There are aspects of the 2016 Venom series I enjoyed (154 = good shit) but the more of the preceding comics I have read, the more dissatisfied I am with just how little explanation there is at the beginning for like... anything that happened. Especially that we never, ever saw Eddie's thought process in going from hatred to love. like. What.
> 
> Oh also here's the layout I use for Eddie's NY apartment--made a month or two ago with [Floorplanner](http://floorplanner.com/):  
>   
> It's based on a combination of the various different floorplans each different artist in the 2016 run used... so inconsistent...


End file.
